


The Many Sneaky Ways of Showing Legend Physical Affection

by sister_dear



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Blanket Fic, Canon-Typical Violence, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drinking, Each character gets their own time in the spotlight, Ensemble Cast, Fluff, Gen, I really let Legend go to town with the cursing in this one, Language, Legend (Linked Universe)-centric, Like a lot of language, Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda), Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Relationships, This is a fluffy fic I swear, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:46:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26685355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sister_dear/pseuds/sister_dear
Summary: Or: Legend is secretly a big softie but refuses to admit it.The drinking tag only applies to one segment of the story and can be easily skipped. See story notes for details.
Relationships: Four & Hyrule & Legend & Sky & Time & Twilight & Warriors & Wild & Wind (Linked Universe), Four & Legend (Linked Universe), Hyrule & Legend (Linked Universe), Legend & Time (Linked Universe), Legend & Twilight (Linked Universe), Legend & Warriors (Linked Universe), Legend & Wild (Linked Universe), Legend & Wind (Linked Universe)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 312





	The Many Sneaky Ways of Showing Legend Physical Affection

**Author's Note:**

> If you would like to skip the drinking, don’t read Warriors’ section.

\- - -

WILD

\- - -

Wild and Legend are supposed to be gathering firewood. This would be easier if, A: Wild wasn’t himself and therefore constantly distracted and, B: if the light but pervasive drizzle wasn’t thoroughly soaking every single loose bit of wood under their feet. 

Case in point: Wild is currently standing with his back to the edge of a sheer dropoff, taking a picture of himself with the great big canyon and its huge mushroom-like trees at his back. Legend rolls his eyes. 

Wood snaps in the forest behind him. 

Legend whips around, but his arms are full of twigs and branches. He drops them, reaching for his sword. Something heavy hits his side. He goes flying into Wild. Wild grunts, lands hard with Legend on top, and keeps going. They’re tumbling, rolling, tangled together. Legend’s eyes widen. He flings out a hand, fingers scraping against mud and rain-slick stone. The ground goes out from under them, and they fall. 

The cliffside slams into Legend. His fingers slip free of their last frantic grasp at the edge of the stone. Gravity takes hold. 

Someway, somehow, Wild turns their uncoordinated tumble into a semi-controlled slide. Rocks slice against Legend’s legs, his hands, but Wild gets their feet pointed down, there’s just enough of a grade…

There’s a small outcropping directly below them. This time, they manage to stop themselves. They hit the rock feet-first and hard, no room for a proper tumble to redirect momentum. Painful protest jars up Legend’s right leg, all the joints on that side singing as he and Wild stumble, flail, and manage to wrench themselves back up against the cliff face rather than continuing forward over the edge. 

There is a moment of stunned silence. 

“What the fuck was that?”

“Moblin. I think.” 

“Shit.” Legend stares back up the cliff, letting the rain hit his scraped-up face. No sign of the monster. It must have been satisfied with knocking them over the edge.

“You okay?”

“Not missing any limbs.” 

Wild laughs. He steps away from the cliff face, walking the two small steps it takes to get to the edge and peering down. He steps away, shaking his head. No going that way, it seems. Legend pats himself down as Wild does the same. Bruised ribs, check. Small cuts, aching joints all clamoring for attention, but nothing broken that he can tell. Roc’s cape is still in place at his back and his sword is still in its sheath. Everything else he left back at camp.

A strange look crosses Wild’s face. 

“What?”

“I dropped the slate when you hit me. I think it’s still up there.” 

Legend considers the implications of this. “Your glider?”

“In the slate.”

“Chances of you climbing back up?”

Wild peers up into the mist. The stone looks incredibly smooth to Legend’s eye. It’s the reason they didn’t get banged up any worse on the way down, but it isn’t doing them any favors now. He’d have difficulty climbing that even in ideal conditions. Legend isn’t surprised when Wild shakes his head. “Not until it stops raining. What about your gear? That cape have any enchantments?”

“Roc’s cape improves horizontal jump distance, not vertical. My bag is back at camp.”

“So we’re stuck until the rain stops or someone comes looking.” 

“Yup.”

“Shit.” 

“My thoughts exactly.”

Legend is starting to shiver in the cold and damp. He has numerous items that could help in this situation if he’d just brought his bag. He swears under his breath. 

Thunder cracks. Legend shudders violently. Shit. Of course the situation would get worse. 

He has his anti-shock ring on. It’s still there on his finger, green stone shining with rainwater. These days he never takes it off. Legend runs the thumb of his opposite hand over the stone, a forcible reminder that it’s there.

Wild peers up at the sky with a worried frown. “We should both get under my cape.” 

“Why?”

“It’s big enough to wrap around both of us if we get creative, and a fairy made it waterproof.” 

Right now, save a few wet patches from sliding down rain-slick rock, Legend is only damp, the fine misting rain not enough to truly penetrate his traveling clothes. Roc’s cape is good for light rain only; if this turns into a true downpour he’s going to be soaked through in minutes. 

Necessity does not make Legend relish the upcoming closeness. “Fine. We’re going to have to be in each other’s laps; it’s not big enough to protect both our fronts and backs otherwise.” There’s enough water flowing off the cliff that if they only protect one or the other they’re still going to wind up soaked.

It takes some doing. Wild’s insistence that they leave their swords as far from where they sit as possible does absolutely nothing for Legend’s nerves. There’s grumbling, readjusting, fingers and elbows jabbing sensitive places. They settle with Legend’s back to the cliff face and Wild leaning with his side against it, shoulder curled into Legend’s, their legs tucked up and woven around each other. It’s horribly close, but it means they manage to fit Wild’s cape under and around them both, only Wild's face and Legend’s head exposed. Wild grins. “We look like a deformed rock.” 

Legend makes a disgusted sound, watching water bead and roll off the black fabric. Wild has strange, skintight black clothes on underneath it. The water runs off of them like it does his cloak, but they’re so thin they can’t be doing much to keep him warm.

The skies open. A flash of lightning, followed shortly by the crash of thunder. Legend jerks. It’s minute, but there’s no way Wild didn’t feel it. Legend twiddles his ring to remind himself he’s wearing it. 

“How much metal are you wearing right now?” Wild’s voice has gone a little tense. Legend’s heart rate picks up. A slight tingling starts up in his fingers and toes, his body’s instincts saying run.

“Sword over there, belt, jewelry,” he lists tersely. Then, because there’s no reason to be obtuse about why Wild’s asking, “I’m wearing a ring that protects against shocks.”

Wild relaxes minutely at that. “These clothes do the same.” 

“Were you anticipating a thunderstorm when you went looking for firewood?”

“It’s always a possibility in this region.”

“And you didn’t think to warn me?”

"You put on a cape! I figured I didn't need to."

Another flash of lightning. Another twitch. Legend curses himself. He’s trained himself out of showing this weakness, but never with the anticipation of having to hide it from someone he’s literally sitting on top of. 

Wild’s legs shift against his own as the champion resettles his weight. “Talk about it or distraction?”

Legend scowls into the drizzle. The view from this spot is probably magnificent on a clear day. Right now it’s just vague shapes through a fog of rain. “What do you think?”

Wild shrugs. Legend can’t see it but he can feel Wild’s shoulder move against his own. “I think Warriors is busy sitting on Hyrule right now to keep him from coming after us.”

“Are you stupid? He’ll have his hands full with Wind, and Time’ll be doing the same to Twilight. _Sky_ is the one sitting on Hyrule.”

Wild’s answering laugh is quiet, distant. When Legend turns to look his eyes are a million miles away. Legend isn’t sure if it’s a memory or a _Memory._ He leaves it alone. 

The storm takes a long, cold, miserable few hours to pass. Maybe it’s their protections or maybe the storm just isn’t directly over them, but lightning never hits their cliff. As time goes on, Wild grows increasingly twitchy, quiet and talkative in turns. None of Legend’s joints appreciate the prolonged stillness. The stone is cold, and the rain would be making him ache even if the fall hadn’t already done him that lovely little favor. 

Wild doesn’t say anything when Legend buries his hands between their knees, trying to eek out any extra bit of warmth, nor when he pulls them free to chafe them together under the cloak. Several hours in, when the ache has well and truly settled into his bones, Legend pulls his hands free only to have every single one of his knuckles pop. He grunts. Before he can bury them back between their knees, Wild manages to grab one. 

Wild returns Legend’s glare with a _look._ “Your hands are like ice.”

“Leave the mother cucco act to Twilight; he’s better at it.” Legend blinks as he registers the thumbs digging into the meat of his hand, Wild’s other fingers sliding up the backs, working the stiffness out of each digit. “You can keep doing whatever that is, though.” 

Wild’s eyes are on the top of his cloak, as if he can see what he’s doing through the fabric. “Just a little trick I picked up.” 

Through the rain, a howl. Wild perks up. Legend does too. Wild can pick Wolfie's howl out of a crowd. Legend has seen him do it.

Rescue. Finally. 

“Wild? Legend?” A voice calls from far above them.

“Here!” Wild shouts. 

“Are you both okay?”

Legend slowly shifts his legs, untangling them from Wild’s. The right one screams in protest. “Fucking peachy! Get us out of here!”

“Hang on, we’re finding somewhere to anchor the hookshots, we’ll have you up in no time!”

Wild runs his fingers over Legend’s hand one last time before letting go. Legend had forgotten he still had it. “Teach me how to do that?”

Wild laughs. “Sure. So long as you repay the favor. This one bothers me sometimes.” Wild fishes the hand on his scarred side out from under the cloak, twiddling his fingers. 

“Deal.”

\- - -

SKY

\- - -

None of them escaped their latest battle unscathed. Of equal note, there were no major injuries and enough potions and fairies to go around. That means it’s now time for one thing; a mending session. Everyone has new tears and holes in their clothing to coincide with their recently healed battle wounds. Better to get the repairs out of the way all at once so no one is holding them up in the morning or any one person stuck with all the group’s mending. (That someone being Legend. Legend doesn’t mind helping the others out on occasion - he likes sewing - but he refuses to be the group’s only seamster.)

And so Legend finds himself seated in the sand between Hyrule and Sky, comfortably warm in the shelter of an overhanging rock in Four’s desert. Legend tucks his legs under himself very, very carefully and makes sure he’s seated far away from Wind. The little shit _will_ kick sand up his tunic if given the opportunity. Hyrule settles in with the same efficient focus he gives to all necessary but unliked tasks, trading cheery teasing with Warriors over stitching technique. Hyrule’s stitching isn’t as good as Legend's, but both of them are a far cry better than Sky. Sky’s stitches are downright horrifying. 

“Who taught you to sew? A blind blupee?”

Sky laughs. “No one,” he admits, shrugging. “I picked up a little from watching Zelda, that’s all. The knight academy employed a professional seamstress. We were expected to take everything to her so the repair work would be uniform.”

“Well, just so you know, you’re terrible at this.”

“I know!” Sky laughs again, entirely unbothered. “You’re quite good, though. How do you do that?”

Sky is suddenly in his space, leaning over to look at the mending in his lap. Legend's hands go still. Hyrule is close on his other side, a cliff at his back. Sky notices his tension. He stops moving, face falling, morphing into something that’s far too close to sorrowful understanding. He draws back a little.

Legend shakes it off. 

“Feast your eyes on true skill.” He tips his partially repaired tunic towards Sky, who leans in again to see. It’s fine. Legend saw him coming this time. He puts in a few more stitches, going slow so Sky can see how it’s done. 

Sky looks back at his own torn trousers, trying to copy him on the next few stitches. His lips press together, brow furrowed in utter concentration. 

It’s not adorable. Nope. No way. 

Legend doesn’t look across their loose circle of heroes. He doesn’t want to see the teasing faces the two of them are no doubt getting from the rest of the group. He can feel the eyes drilling into the top of his head. 

“No, no. Hylia, Birdbrain, stop. Look at what I’m doing.” Legend goes extra slow this time. Sky copies him with painstaking care. The results are… nothing Legend can bring himself to compliment. 

“Just. Just give it here.”

“But!” 

“You will practice on something that is not clothes you’re actually going to wear. Later. Give it.”

Sky’s trousers safely in Legend’s lap, Legend quickly finishes off his own clothing before systematically ripping out every crime Sky has committed against his own. He is acutely aware of Sky’s head hovering over his shoulder, watching closely and asking questions. It’s fine. Even when Sky’s chin starts to droop and he quiets, resting his chin on Legend’s shoulder with a tired sigh. It’s still fine. 

The questions taper off into long pauses. Sky’s chin grows heavier and heavier. 

“He’s asleep, isn’t he,” he mutters to Hyrule, earning himself a cheery little laugh. Hyrule leans forward so he can see Sky’s face.

“He is,” Four confirms from across their little circle, laughter in his voice and proving that Legend does indeed have an audience. Legend grumbles under his breath. 

Hyrule gives him a sympathetic shoulder pat. Legend doesn’t take offense, because it’s Hyrule. Warriors would lose the hand. “I can try to trade places with you?”

Legend shakes his head and stubbornly goes back to repairing Sky’s clothes. “You’ll wake him up.” 

“He’ll be touched to know you care,” Warriors snickers. Legend flips him off. 

\- - -

TIME

\- - -

“Old man? Old man, stay awake!” Legend taps Time on the forehead and cheek. He’d shake his shoulders, but. Well. Those can’t take much more abuse today. Time blinks, sluggish and bleary. 

“Someone find me a potion!” Twilight roars. 

“We need to get his shoulder back in the socket first,” Legend states. Somehow he’s the one Time is leaning against. Downside of being closest to him when he fell. Twilight buzzes around them like a fretful bird over a nest, assessing Time’s wounds. At Legend’s words, he zeroes in on the shoulder. He removes the pauldron, yanking to free the dented metal. Time grimaces as it comes away, jaw going tight. His face is right in front of Legend’s, so Legend gets a nice close view of his expression as Twilight rotates his arm, feeling for the right angle. The man may be stone, but no one can sit through that without at least a few twitches. Twilight finds what he’s looking for. He goes still, holding the arm steady, and casts a speaking look at Legend. 

Legend grits his teeth and adjusts his grip on Time’s armor. The man isn’t really staying upright under his own power right now. “Twilight’s going to set your shoulder, old timer.”

Time nods. Twilight nods too and without any further warning his hand on Time’s elbow gives a swift shove. 

Time doesn’t make a sound. His face goes about three shades paler than it already was. He slumps. 

“Don’t pass out!” Legend yelps, struggling under the added weight.

A stiff nod, Time hanging onto consciousness by the skin of his teeth. He’s clinging to Legend with his good arm, hand fisted in a death grip on the shoulder of his tunic. Time always gives the sense that he’s looming. Kneeling on the ground with Time more or less slumped over him certainly isn’t doing anything to lessen that impression. Legend does his best to ignore it. 

Twilight finishes his inspection of the newly re-seated joint, satisfied. He hasn’t let go of Time’s elbow. “Hold his arm so I can secure it.” 

“Little busy here.” Legend shoves at Time until he’s a little more upright. He takes Time’s elbow from Twilight, keeping the arm still as Twilight secures it in a quick sling. 

“Twilight! Potion!” Twilight turns to catch the bottle Wind throws, snatching it out of the air with the ease of long practice. Twilight pops the cork, moving the bottle into position for Time. Legend shifts his head to the side when the glass passes a little too close to his nose.

“Drink up.” 

“I can hold the bottle.” There’s a terrible wheeze in Time’s voice. 

“Prove it, then.” Legend braces Time more fully. Twilight puts a hand under Time’s good elbow. His fingers peel themselves one by one off of Legend’s shoulder and reach just as slowly for the potion. He downs it in a few slow pulls, dropping the bottle wearily when he’s done. They all ignore it as it rolls away. Twilight checks Time’s side, where blood still trails in a thick stream down his armor, and makes a relieved sound. 

“You should be out of danger, but don’t go running around just yet.”

Time grunts in acknowledgment. His good eye slips closed. Legend swears as he slumps. Twilight moves swiftly to take over. “Here, let me-” 

“Twilight!” Four shouts, “I need your help with Wild!” Twilight’s hands pause in midair. His eyes dart between Time and the space behind Legend, obviously torn. 

Legend jerks his head. “Go on, I’ll manage.” Legend leans into Time, trying to find an angle not quite so hard on his aching arms. He’d lay the man down if he could, but he has a feeling that shoulder isn’t quite healed enough to allow for it yet. “We’re never letting you near water, old man. You’d sink like a rock.” 

Time chuckles breathlessly. He’s still boneless. His head drops forward as Legend tries to shift them, hanging down near Legend’s ear. “Don’t you dare pass out like that.” Time grunts. Legend can feel his breath on his neck. He’s draped over and around Legend in a kind of loose hug. It feels like an ambush, but whether it’s the kind that ends in blood or the kind that’s more like waking up to find Sky has snuggled up to the nearest person in his sleep is a bit hard to tell. 

This is far more physical closeness than Legend is prepared to deal with. 

He jabs at Time’s belly but just earns sore fingers for his trouble; Time’s still got most of his armor on. He shoves, gently at first, not willing to push too hard. Time is out of the woods but his injuries aren’t gone; a single potion isn’t enough to undo all the damage he’d taken. Legend’s good intentions are rapidly dwindling by the trapped sensation, and his tongue gets sharper because of it. 

“Wake up, you big oaf,” he hisses, shoving at the uninjured shoulder. Time startles, visibly regains enough of his senses to realize he’s all but smothering Legend. 

“My apologies.”

“You’re fine,” Legend grits out. It’s a lie and Time knows it. 

“Is there a log or a rock you can lean me against?”

“Can you stand to get to it?”

“Likely not.” 

“Then that’s a no.” 

“I can help.”

Legend has never in his life been so happy to see Warriors. He vows to never let the man find out. 

“Up we get!” Warriors inserts himself with disgusting ease against Time’s side, crouching to pull his good arm over his shoulder. Together, he and Legend manage to get Time on his feet - with a minimum of jostling to his shoulder or side - and re-seated against a convenient tree. Time slouches, clearly not yet recovered, but he manages to dig up enough strength to put a hand on Legend’s shoulder and squeeze. There is nothing but painful understanding on his face. He doesn’t say anything, and that makes it worse. If he’d just say something Legend could insult him and find his footing again. 

“Hyrule wants you to get something out of his bag,” Warriors tells him. “Apparently I’m not trustworthy enough to go digging through it.” 

Legend takes the out. Of course he does. The feeling of Time’s hand remains on his shoulder like a brand. 

\- - -

WIND

\- - -

“Legend! Legend come on we need your help!” Wind, all oblivious excitement, latches on to Legend and almost, almost, succeeds in tugging him right off his feet. He sounds happy, not nervous or afraid, so Legend digs his heels in. 

“We?”

“Hyrule and Wild and Four and I!” Wind tugs again on his hands, pouting at him when he refuses to be moved. 

That particular group of names almost certainly means they’re up to something. Wind has Legend’s attention. Legend can’t let him know it, though. That would be far too easy. He raises an unimpressed eyebrow, drawling, “And you need my help. Specifically.” 

“Okay maybe not your help as much as one of your items but same thing right?” Wind lets go of his hand abruptly. Legend, expecting it, certainly does not stumble backwards a small step. Wind whips around behind him and starts shoving at his back. 

“I don’t know.” Faux consideration laces Legend’s reply. “I’m feeling pretty tired.” He drops his weight down, letting it come to rest solidly on Wind. Wind grunts, planting one boney shoulder in the small of Legend’s back, hands still shoving. Legend keeps his feet centered under him, though. Wind will definitely move and let him fall otherwise. 

“Oof, fuck, move your fat ass!” 

Legend whirls around, grabbing Wind in a headlock. “Watch your mouth, you little shit!”

Wind swipes one of Legend’s ankles out from under him. 

Legend goes with it. He doesn’t let go, instead controlling their fall so he doesn’t hurt Wind’s neck. He hits the ground hip first with Wind half on top of him, catching himself on an elbow. He gets a fist to the kidney for his trouble. 

Wind knows how to wrestle. He’s a scrappy little shit, but then so is Legend. They roll through the dirt, cursing and laughing. Legend finally has to yield when Wind manages to trap him in one hell of a dirty wrist lock. 

“Give up yer treasure, scallywag!” 

“Enough already, you pest! You win!” 

Legend rolls onto his back once Wind has let him go. Wind crosses his arms over Legend’s chest, propping his chin on them, grinning happily. Legend's joints ache, but the pleasant looseness of a good spar keeps it from bothering him much.

Legend’s curiosity gets the better of him. 

“What item were you wanting, anyway?”

“Roc’s cape!” Wind pops to his feet, all previous signs of relaxation gone in the face of his renewed excitement. “Four bet Hyrule his cape would let him jump farther than Hyrule’s jump spell, and Wild said _you_ had a Roc’s cape too and now Four and Hyrule are arguing over how _much_ farther wearing both of them at the same time would let him jump and _I need to see it.”_

Legend narrows his eyes in challenge. “What makes you think I’m going to let Four be the one to test it?”

“Yes!” Wind’s fist pumps the air. “This is gonna be great!”

\- - -

FOUR

\- - -

Legend stomps through the downpour, cursing the entire way. For some reason he’s the one who’s been sent to fetch Four. No, actually, he knows the reason. He just doesn't like it. Twilight went after Wild and Hyrule, who are supposedly looking for potions ingredients but have been gone for hours. Why they keep letting those two wander off unsupervised is a mystery to Legend. Sky and Time are busy sleeping off concussions, and Warriors is sitting on Wind to keep him from running around with a partially healed gut wound, periodically waking the concussed duo, and keeping an eye out for any unfriendly activity. Four is usually the least of their worries; he wanders, but never far, and usually comes back on his own. That he hasn’t this time is moderately worrisome.

Legend would rather not play nursemaid, ergo Legend is the one who gets to go after their smithy.

“Legend!”

The call is so faint he barely hears it. Legend stops in his tracks, hand on his sword.

“Legend! Down here!”

Legend looks down. A single fern frond near his feet moves out of sync with the ones around it. He catches a flash of color. Legend tucks the hem of his tunic and his brand new oilskin cape up under his knees as he drops to a carefully balanced squat, keeping the ends from trailing through the muck. Bad enough his boots are covered in mud; he has no desire to get it anywhere else. He lifts the fern just slightly and there beneath it is Four. 

Legend couldn’t stop the broad grin that breaks across his face if he wanted to. “This almost makes up for getting sent out in the rain after you.”

“Don't start,” Four grumbles. He’s tiny, no taller than the length of Legend’s palm. 

“What happened to you, Shorty?”

 _“Rain_ happened.”

Legend looks at the size of the raindrops, how they make the fern jump and bounce, and the current size of Four’s tiny, tiny head, and guffaws. 

“Oh, fine, just get it out of your system.” Four crosses his arms, glaring. “And when you’re done, you can give me a ride.”

“What, like carry you?” 

“Yes, like carry me!” Legend shrugs, extends a hand. Four doesn’t move. 

“You’ll need to-” He makes a vague gesture at the sky, shaping a dome in the air above his head.

“Oh, right.” Legend holds his second hand above the first, forming an umbrella of sorts. “That work?” 

“Yes, thank you.” Four moves forward with as much dignity as he can muster. It isn’t much, seeing as he’s tiny and, Legend notices for the first time, limping badly. 

“What happened? Gnat get you?” 

Four glares. He leaves little muddy footprints on Legend’s skin as he climbs onto his hand and settles himself cross-legged in his palm. “Spiders are much more difficult to deal with when you’re this size,” Four states with an air of quiet dignity. Legend considers some of the gigantic arachnid-like enemies he’s faced and grunts acknowledgment. 

“Let’s get you back, I guess.” 

“Not yet!” 

“It’s pouring. You’re hurt and you’re tiny.” 

“I go tiny all the time, it’s nothing new.” This is certainly news to Legend. “I just figured out where to get the ingredients we need, we’re not going back yet. You carry me, I tell you where to find the stuff, then we get me changed back and return to camp. Less work than you having to haul me around on this ankle when I’m normal size.” Legend doesn’t ask how he’d gotten a lead in the middle of nowhere or why it involved being tiny. He’ll find a way to bribe or blackmail Four for answers later.

Legend considers the placement of his hands, one hovering over the other as if framing an invisible box. “Walking around like this is gonna be awkward.”

“Stick me on your shoulder then, your hood’s big enough.” 

Having Four right next to his neck is not particularly appealing, but then neither is walking around with both hands occupied. Legend lifts Four to his shoulder. 

“I haven’t seen this cape before,” Four comments, wedging himself up under Legend’s jaw with his feet braced on the hood’s collar. 

“It’s new.” Picked up on their last stop to a village big enough to sell such things, so as not to have a repeat of the Wild incident. “Which way?”

“See that stump over there?” Legend grunts affirmation. “Remember it, we’ll need to come back to it. Head due east from there.” Four grabs at his hair with a yelp when Legend starts walking. Legend winces at the yank and tries to make his next steps smoother. He follows Four’s directions, turning over various rocks and hunting around the bases of trees until he’s collected enough insects for Wild to cook up a few of his elixirs. 

The death grip on his hair slowly loosens into a light hold as he hunts. Eventually Legend becomes aware of gentle, repetitive tugging. “What are you doing?” He doesn’t turn his head for fear of knocking his passenger loose, but he gives into the temptation to poke a finger at Four’s uninjured foot. He gets a kick for his trouble. 

“None of your business.”

“It’s my hair, that makes it my business.”

Four hums. “I think we have what we need. Take me back to that stump now.”

Legend leaves Four’s foot alone to poke at his middle instead. Four squawks indignantly. “Stop messing with my hair.”

“Fine!” There’s a low mutter that sounds suspiciously like _"I was done anyway,"_ then Four says at a normal volume, “Are you going to take me back to that stump or what?”

Legend takes him back to the stump. It has mushrooms growing all around it and a large crack in the top. Legend holds his hands up to his shoulder for Four to climb back into. “Where do you want me to put you?”

“That cluster of mushrooms by the side. ...Thanks. You might want to back up a step, I’ll be right back.”

Legend, no fool, does as he’s told. While he’s waiting, he grabs at the hair Four was messing with. There are tiny braids in the ends, woven through with colorful thread and equally tiny feathers. Legend squints at it, not sure how to feels about the warm sensation that settles in his chest.

There’s a flash of magic and Four is standing, full sized, on top of the stump. He’s actually a tad taller than Legend up there. 

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” 

Four remains where he is on the stump, looking at the large step to the ground with a grimace. Legend considers the way he’s favoring his ankle, the distance to the camp, and turns with a beleaguered sigh to present Four with his back. “Come on, up you get.” 

Four’s hands land on his shoulders. He’ll be outside the wet cape, but at this point he’s been standing in the open long enough to be thoroughly soaked anyway. Once he’s up, Four tucks his arms into the space between them, leaning forward to keep himself balanced. His chin comes to rest on Legend’s shoulder. He isn’t wearing any sort of protective gear, just has his hood pulled up. Legend can feel him shivering. 

Warriors looks up in exhausted relief when they reenter the shallow cave they’d set up camp in. “Good, you found him.” His voice is hushed. Wind is fast asleep with his head in Warriors’ lap. 

“Wasn’t lost,” Four grumbles. 

“Just stuck,” Legend is quick to remind him. He deposits Four by the fire. “You stay there.”

He grabs Four’s pack, tossing it to him, before going through his own for dry clothes. “Warriors, did you find any more potions at all?” 

“No.” 

“We’ll have to wait for Wild, then.” 

Once they’re both dry, he pulls out bandages and his ice rod. “Gimme your foot.” Four lets him maneuver the limb into Legend’s lap. He left his muddy shoes off after changing. Legend looks at the wounds, still sluggishly bleeding. It looks like something grabbed Four’s ankle and yanked. Badly sprained, probably not broken. Legend cleans it, wraps it, and uses the ice rod to create a cold pack that he ties around it. “You should lie down,” he tells Four as he gets up to put their bags back by the bedrolls. 

“M’fine.” Four is still stubbornly upright when Legend is done, but clearly having to work to stay that way with his leg stretched out in front of him on the log. Legend rolls his eyes and re-seats himself at Four’s back. Four slumps against him with a grateful sigh. 

Legend is going soft. He’s going to wind up regretting it, he just knows. 

\- - -

TWILIGHT

\- - -

Wolfie emerges from the river, a small fountain’s worth of water pouring off his shaggy fur. Legend ignores him in favor of wringing as much water out of his shorts and hair as he can manage. 

They’ve been stomping through muck all day, Wolfie and Twilight “taking turns” at guiding them through the humid swamp. (It’s such a thinly veiled excuse: Legend wants to kick himself all over again every time Twilight does something that now seems so blatantly obvious.) The entire group spent the morning muddy, sweaty, and short tempered. Reaching the river with its clean, pleasantly cool water led to the unanimous decision to stop for the day. 

Most of the others are still out there playing, but Legend has had enough of getting dunked and splashed for one day. He groans as he straightens, a series of cracks going up his spine. He reaches for his tunic, left on a rock to stay dry, and pulls it over his head, settling it with a satisfied sigh. He's debating the merits of slipping his shorts off from under it just to be completely dry when he notices the way Wolfie’s feet are braced. 

“No, Wolfie wait!” 

His protest comes too late. 

The stupid beast is standing right next to him. There are still rivers of water draining off of him. When he shakes, it’s like someone chucked a bucket of water at Legend’s face. Legend flings his hands up uselessly as he’s pelted, feeling water splatter against bare skin and seep in annoying little points through his dry tunic. 

The splattering stops. Legend lowers his hands, staring in disbelief. Wolfie pants at him with a stupid canine smile, tongue lolling. “You _obnoxious animal.”_ Legend kicks water at him in retaliation. Wolfie dodges it with a yip. Great. Twilight is feeling _playful._

Wolfie jumps at him. Legend backpedals, swearing, back coming up against the boulder, shallow water swirling around his ankles. Wolfie gets in his space and _leans._ He plants his hind end on Legend’s feet, wet fur pressed up against Legend’s legs and soaking into the front of his tunic. He looks up at Legend with a canine smile, like any regular dog begging for pets, but Legend can see the look in his eye. 

His ice rod is up on the boulder, left next to his tunic just in case. Legend gropes around blindly. He can’t quite turn his torso to look for it properly, what with the giant-ass wolf leaning on it. 

His hand closes around a smooth, familiar handle. Wolfie’s eyes narrow. Quick as a snake, Legend aims the rod down at his feet. 

The water around his ankles - and Wolfie’s hind end - goes ice cold. Wolfie jumps about a foot straight up. 

Legend slips away from the boulder, chortling and stumbling, mood still light after an afternoon of play. Wolfie is between him and the shore. He staggers around the boulder, into deeper water, keeping the rod between himself and the mouthful of teeth. 

Wolfie lowers his head, body tense in a hunting posture. Legend rethinks his life choices.

Teeth close around the rod, ripping it from his hands and tossing it onto the shore. Stupid, stupid - he should know by now not to rely on a distance weapon in close quarters! Legend bolts. 

He lunges for the shoreline on the opposite side of the rock. Water splashes up onto the hem of his tunic but Legend is beyond caring; if he’s in this deep it’ll slow Wolfie down too. He hits the shore. The dropped rod is to his right. The camp is straight ahead. Water at his back, thick forest everywhere else. 

A hundred and seventy pounds of wet fur hits the back of Legend's legs. 

His hands go skidding across the sandy bank. Legend lands on his stomach with an "oof!" His elbows dig into the sand, thankfully preventing him from eating a mouthful of dirt. Legend scrambles. A great weight drops across his back. Legend’s shout comes out as a cough. He looks over his shoulder. Wolfie is sprawled across him. Hind legs on one side of his torso, front legs on the other, radiating smug superiority. 

Legend can _feel_ the water seeping off of wet fur, warm and damp against his skin.

In short, Legend’s blissfully dry tunic is now completely soaked. 

“You flea-bitten mutt!”

Legend drives an elbow at Wolfie’s chest. 

Teeth close around his arm. Legend’s heart jumps into his throat. This is Twilight. He knows this is Twilight. That doesn’t stop the back of his mind from screaming about _teeth_ and _predator._ He locks up. Just for a second, but it happens.

Wolfie lets his arm go. The hesitation vanishes as if it never was. Because Legend doesn’t learn, he shoves at Wolfie’s shoulder. “You’ve made your point! Get off.” Wolfie leans into the shoving. A long, wet tongue swipes up Legend’s ear, and he hollers. “Fuck! Gross! Don’t you ever do that again!”

Twilight is _laughing at him._

“Wild!” he hollers, dignity be damned, “Come get your beast!”

\- - -

WARRIORS

\- - -

Two things they’ve all figured out about Warriors. 

The first: he gets flashbacks sometimes. Bad ones. Even when the rest of them don’t see it, they know it’s happened because it’s the only time he goes out of his way to get completely plastered. He’s as careful as is possible to be about it. He’ll wait until they’re safe - away from hoards of monsters, tucked into an inn or a stable - and then out comes the flask or the coin pouch and off he goes. 

The second thing they know: Warriors is an affectionate drunk. 

“Legend!” Warriors flings his arms out, all broad grin and flushed cheeks. He isn’t staggering. Legend only saw him get to that point once. He also saw Time drag him off for a very long conversation after. 

Legend narrows his eyes. “You’re drunk. Go away.” 

“Legend, you should come with me! Have some fun for once!” His waving hands indicate the secluded spot behind one of Lon Lon Ranch’s many outbuildings, which he has apparently decided is the best place to plant himself for today’s ‘entertainment.’ 

“There’s no fun at all talking to you when you’re like this. Takes all the challenge right out of it.”

“But Legend!” Warriors tosses an arm around his neck. 

Legend plants an elbow in his ribs and keeps walking. “Go sleep it off in a barn somewhere, pretty boy.” Warrior pouts but stops following him. Legend thinks that’s the end of it.

Legend is a fool. 

It’s half an hour later. Legend has returned to the main house, having carried one last dagger out to Four, who is taking advantage of the anvil in the ranch’s repair barn to do touch up work on the weapons that need it. Time and Malon have disappeared somewhere together. Everyone else is outside or in one of the barns. The house is quiet. What does he want to do next? Go find one of the others? Retrieve a book from his travel pack and find a good place to park himself outside? 

The door swings open behind him before he’s made up his mind. “Come on Warriors, let’s get you settled in.” Twilight walks in. He’s half guiding and half dragging Warriors, who still has that drunken smile on his face. 

“Legend!” Warriors calls, as if he hadn’t accosted Legend less than an hour ago. 

“Warriors. Still drunk, I see.” 

Twilight sighs. He manages to get Warriors seated in the overstuffed chair by the main room’s fireplace with a minimum of fuss. “No, you stay there,” he commands when Warriors starts to stand. Warriors drops back into the chair, with a put upon air that he probably thinks is charming but mostly just makes Legend wish for a bucket of water to dump over his head. 

Twilight turns to Legend with apology written across his face. “I left Wind and Wild alone with the cuccos.” 

Legend shudders. “Go, go, I can handle pretty boy here.” So much for a few moments of peace. He wanders into the kitchen, hunting around until he finds the mugs and filling one from the water pitcher. 

“Wind?” Warrior’s perks up. It’s disgustingly adorable. “I’ll come with you.” 

“You,” Twilight jabs a finger into Warriors’ chest, then has to snatch it right back when Warriors leans in for a hug, “are staying right here until you’re sober. You were trying to climb into the _bull pen._ We will be talking about that later.” Having said his part, Twilight marches himself right back out the door. 

“Twilight? Legend?” Warriors sounds a little lost. Legend scowls hard, stomping down on the unwelcome emotions that tone of voice evokes. It’s the moron’s own fault. He stalks back into the other room, shoving the mug into Warriors hands. 

“Drink something, idiot. The faster you sober the up the less time I’m stuck in here with you.” Legend stands there, arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently, to make sure Warriors actually drinks it. He reaches for the empty mug, fully intending to refill it and bring it back. Maybe he should just bring the whole pitcher.

Legend, however, has made an unforgivable mistake. His mind is already in the other room, attention not on what’s in front of him. 

Warriors' arms close around his waist. 

He was probably aiming for a hug. Legend, startled, shoves him away. Warriors leans back but doesn’t let go. Legend is hauled, snarling and twisting, into his lap. “Fucking Hylia dammit, Warriors!” Legend shouts. Warriors hums happily. His arms are like a vice. “I will stab you,” Legend threatens. He reaches for the pressure point on Warriors wrist and encounters thick leather. Of course Warriors would forgo every other piece of armor but still be wearing his bracers. Of fucking course. 

A weight comes to rest on his shoulder. Hair tickles his neck. Legend looks down incredulously. Warriors’ temple is resting on Legend’s shoulder. His breathing is evening out. Legend wrinkles his nose at the stench of alcohol. 

Warriors arms are still clamped around him like a fucking vice. 

Why is _Legend_ always the one who winds up in these situations? Sky loves this cuddly shit! Why can’t they fall asleep on him instead?

Warriors lets out a deep sigh. 

Legend _could_ get out of this. If he needs to he will. He’s definitely going to before any of the others comes back.

He just maybe doesn’t need to right this second. 

\- - -

HYRULE

\- - -

“Is this what I think it is?”

Hyrule smiles, bashful but sly. “What do you think it is?”

Legend looks at Hyrule’s little setup on the pebbled bank of the river, downstream from their camp: old gloves, a wooden comb, a small paint brush, a plethora of old rags, and several pots and bottles. Legend picks up one of the bottles, tilting it and squinting at the color and texture of the substance inside. “Hyrule, you resourceful bastard, where did you manage to get hair dye?”

Hyrule beams. “My secret!”

“Wild helped you.”

“Well, yes.” Hyrule shrugs. “And Wind and Warriors.”

 _“Warriors_ helped you?”

“I didn’t tell him what it was for.”

Legend groans, squeezing his eyes shut and rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “Doesn’t matter. He’ll figure it out.” He can’t even begin to pretend disinterest, though, and his eyes pop back open to squint at the bottle. “Color?”

“Blonde, of course! I know the pink will grow out on its own, but I figured you’d be happier if we could make that happen faster.” Hyrule reaches up under the sleeves of his tunic to undo the attachments of his bracers, stripping them off and tucking them through his belt. He pulls on the gloves instead. They’re thin, worn leather, probably originally meant for riding. More importantly, they cover all the skin on Hyrule’s hands. “Well?” He flexes his fingers, waving them at the log in invitation. 

“...Holdonasecond.” Legend yanks off his cap and outer layers - he does not want his nice red tunic coming anywhere near any kind of dye - and undoes enough buttons on his undertunic to fold the collar out of the way. He catches a glimpse of the fond smile Hyrule is wearing and scowls at it. As seems to be the usual these days, that only make’s Hyrule's smile grow. He gestures at the makeshift seat again.

Legend plants his grouchy ass down on the log. 

Having Hyrule’s hands in his hair is not nearly as trying as Legend was bracing himself for. He was willing to suffer through some discomfort if it meant getting rid of the Hylia-damned pink, but apparently he won’t even have to put up with that much. He stiffens only slightly at the first brush of fingers through hair. 

“You want me to leave your usual spot undyed?” 

“Yes.” 

Hyrule hums. He separates out a chunk of hair by Legend’s left temple and braids it, then winds a strip of fabric around it to help stop any stray splatters. Then he gets to work on the rest of Legend’s head. 

The feeling of the dye is slightly gross, like having his hair caked in mud. Having someone else do this for him is more pleasant than Legend anticipated. Legend’s shoulders slowly relax, soothed by the repetitive motion of fingers, brush, and comb. Hyrule works quietly, never one to fill every moment with mindless chatter. 

Legend’s shoulders and neck are boneless jelly by the time he realizes Hyrule is done applying dye, just running the comb through his hair. He grumbles under his breath, wordless. Hyrule laughs softly. “Now we wait.” 

“Hm.” Legend watches as Hyrule putters, cleaning. He wipes the gloves off with a rag. The comb receives similar treatment. He wipes the worst of the dye out of the brush as well before scrubbing it clean in a bowl of water. Hyrule takes his time with it all and Legend just sits there, watching. It's... nice. 

“Time to rinse!”

Right. Legend may not have thought this part through. How to do this and retain some semblance of dignity? 

Hyrule plants his hands on his hips. He moves in front of Legend, still wearing that same soft smile. Legend blinks at him languidly. “You have three options. Sit up and lean way backwards while I rinse, stand up and bend over forwards, or we both go jump in the river.”

The river is freezing. 

“I could jump in the river alone,” Legend points out. 

“Nope! My project, I get to finish it.”

“My hair.”

“If you miss some you’ll be dripping dye all down the back of your tunic.”

Hyrule plays dirty. 

Legend thinks about exposing his neck or his back out here in the open. Thinks about how they’ll need to leave their weapons on the bank if they both get in the water. That's one thing when there's nine of them together, quite another with only two.

A crashing in the woods. Legend lunges for his sword, mentally cursing his slower-than-normal reaction time. “Four!” Hyrule yelps just as Legend’s hand closes around the hilt. “I asked for privacy!”

Legend relaxes minutely as their smithy pulls himself free of the surrounding forest. The languidness of before is gone, though. 

“You two have been gone a while. Just checking up.”

“We’re fine, as you can see,” Hyrule returns, voice tart. “So thank you, but-”

“He can stay,” Legend interrupts, seeing a solution. He appreciates what Hyrule was trying to do, but this actually works. “Make yourself useful and watch our backs while we go dunk in the fucking freezing cold water.”

Four shrugs. “Sure.”

Legend strips the rest of the way down until he’s in just his loose shorts, unbuttoning his tunic and stepping out of it rather than pull it over his head. Hyrule strips down to his trousers and binder. He grabs one of the as-yet unused bowls and wades into the water with only the briefest moment of hesitation. Legend follows him in, sticking close. The water in this spot is shallow and calm and every bit as cold as Legend was anticipating. 

“S-s-sit down in the water and lean back as far as you can,” Hyrule commands, teeth already chattering.

“Easy for you to say,” Legend grumbles. Best just get it over with. Legend drops into the water. Icy water closes around his chest like a vice. “Fuck! Shit! By the Wind Fish that’s cold!”

“I’ll b-b-be quick!” Hyrule puts actions to words. The first splash of water over Legend’s head is every bit as icy as the river flowing around his chest. Hyrule’s fingers follow it. He rinses with one hand and jostles Legend’s hair with the other, rinsing as rapidly as he can manage. Every last hint of relaxation is utterly gone from them both.

“There better be a campfire waiting for us.”

Snickers reach his ears from the direction of the shore. Legend growls ineffectively in Four's direction. 

It’s worth it though, when he sneaks a glance in his mirror shield later - after making sure Warriors is very thoroughly occupied elsewhere - and finds proper blonde reflected back at him. 


End file.
